Disclaimer: Just to let you know, I don't own the POTO chars.
My Comments: You'll see a lot of quotes coming from the new band 'Evanescence', as they are my newest FAVORITE BAND!! And I feel some of their songs really relate to the POTO chars in that alluringly gothic style. I donno, I guess this first portion of the 'Haunted' song by Evanescence might've fit what Christine was thinking when she was mad at Erik, or something, at one point or another...
Boy, did it take a lot out of me to form those first few paragraphs of the first chapter! Lordy it was awful! It was literally word by word, and I had to sit and THINK of what I might write!! ack!! sad, eh? but then, of course, I began writing at school and at night in a feverish excitement! lol
Anyway, here goes!
Emily Knibbe: Actually, I've been a fan for just about three years now. Thank you very much for your encouragement! That totally lifted my spirits! I hope I please you, and everyone else, with this first chapter.
E/C Fan: Wow!! You really like my Madame Giry???? Eee Gads!! I'm so happy! *tear*
Mary Jo Miller: Oh goody, cuz it's gonna keep coming! *bites nails* I hope... *looks to muse for help*
Chapter One
"Long lost words whisper slowly, to me,
Still can't find what keeps me here....
When all this time I've been so hollow, inside,
I know you're still there....
Watching me, wanting me,
I can feel you pull me down...
Fearing you, loving you,
I won't let you pull me down."
~Evanescence, 'Haunted'
The boat was swept along the foggy black waters of le Fantome's lake at an unbearable speed, its spectral gondolier rowing savagely down the liquid path. The ethereal bride of darkness in her temptress garb of a burning scarlet red sat against the end of the boat, holding onto the dragon's neck tightly as tears sprawled across her cheeks as evidence of the torture that existed inside of her. The girl's small form was shifting to balance in her place against the merciless waves of the torrent. A harrowing sob echoed through the master's cellars and the Ghostly figure turned his head briefly to catch a glimpse of his tormented black maiden. In reply, he let out a despairing moan that accompanied her bitter weeping in a melody filled with an excruciating dejection.
In an attempt to calm herself, Christine took to dipping her fingers in the freezing waters and watching the ripples, turning her mind from the complexity of this miserable situation to the simple beauty of the lake. Silence accompanied the crisp sounds of the blazing torches that protruded from the lairs' stone walls. They led the way down to his home, down to her room where she would await the ceremony. The wedding ceremony... Lifting her tearful eyes to whatever lay ahead of them, she realized that no longer would she be a child. No more would the joys of young romance and innocent puppy love exist. Only intense, uncontrollable passion, only darkness filled with mysteries and shadows always at her feet. No sun, only the moon. No beautiful spring time, only winter's chill. She would be his and his alone... Somehow this fact didn't quite effect her as it should have. Aminta was now numb to any feeling that could possibly exist...
The boat arrived at its sinister destination. The house was all but casual, at least on the inside, a contrast to the simplicity of the exterior. Her eyes fled to his own as she realized he was staring at her quite impatiently, stone cold serenity covering his face. Not a single trace of feeling in his features. Another tear slid across her cheek and over her rouged lips, dropping down to join the icy waters beneath her with its warmth.
She grasped her skirts and stood, trying to seem as steady as possible in his presence. It didn't seem wise to look afraid at this moment. Christine hardly considered taking his hand as he offered it, not even glancing his way when she stumbled onto the steps to the stone door entrance. Erik merely retracted his hand and carelessly threw the oar down into the boat. Running his hands over his naked face he entered, slamming the door behind him. Christine had already collapsed to the floor in a lifeless heap, still awake, however looking otherwise.
Erik could see her shivering through the thin material of her chemise, ignoring the fact that she was dressed in what could be more revealing than a nightgown. A blanket of warm, night colored velvet fell upon her shaking form and an instant relief, along with a feeling of complete safety conquered her chills. It smelled of him, felt of him. Christine huddled farther into the heavy material of his cape. He walked over to the fireplace quietly to stir up a conflagration to further provide her with heat. She hated herself for noticing the long strides in which he took and the gracefully powerful essence that was her Angel... was.... Now, he was the opposite of what she had dreamed of all this time. He was her darkness.
"Forgive the terribly bitter cold, m'dear. One would think after all of your many visits you might be used to it." he turned his black gaze to her and stood.
For a split second she thought that he might kill her in that moment. His anger was so horrible within those deep eyes of his, but she knew he would never hurt her, even after what she'd just done to him. Christine looked away shamefacedly as she recalled the awful misery she saw in him once she'd stolen the mask from his face. The shrill screams from the crowd and disgusted expressions on every one of their faces ran through her mind continually until she pressed her hands over her face and ears, trying to force them away. Why had she really done it? Why had she exposed him to everyone? What had been the reason... Perhaps to stall what she knew was to come. The unruly fervor that was inevitably in their future. She had wanted nothing more than to flee to her young, strong, beautiful boy who promised so many times before to rescue her from this nightmare.
Christine's eyes wandered about the dim room. Something was different, but she couldn't quite place it... Until she saw it. The ornate wedding dress that sat in his throne in front of the fire. It filled her with apprehensiveness. She knew it was to be worn this night...
"Christine, it is time to get dressed."
It was as if he was always reading her mind. Everything she thought he seemed to know before she even thought it. Christine sighed and stood, letting the cape fall onto the couch behind her. She missed the warmth of it immediately. Despite the fire, his place was always more than simply cold.
"I wish I didn't have to, Erik." she sobbed in a last attempt to plead for liberation.
"I know what you wish, Christine." he approached her with a tender look upon his face, a look of lament as he lifted her chin so that she would look at him, "But you learned long ago that not everything you want will, or should come true. It is time to face reality."
His breath cascaded across her face in a warm current, and she closed her eyes, inhaling gently.
Erik's voice was just as melodic and entrancing as it always was when he spoke, "Christine... How.... How hard is it, really, to love me? I'm a man too, just like your Vicomte. Am I really that different?"
"I could love you..." she whispered, "If I could understand you..."
Her eyes fluttered open, her lips parted as he gazed over her face. For a moment, all was peaceful and calm. Something they rarely had the chance to enjoy. They were so close, she almost thought he would kiss her. But it was not likely.
"Perhaps you're not trying hard enough." he breathed in turn, and then faced her toward her room and left to his throne.
She glanced over her shoulder and thought to herself, I've tried, Erik... I will always try.
The beautiful room Erik had carefully designed and decorated just for her was just as familiar as it always was. The same sweet aroma from the burning incense beside her bed, the large mirror beside her cherry wood armoire. A sigh of relief escaped her. At last, something of comfort. Her tears had already dried. There was no point in crying now. What mattered was facing fate and what was to come, however unwilling she was. Erik had always been stronger than her and had the uncanny ability to make her do anything he wanted. Sometimes she wondered just what he'd have her do if he abused that right to such a power anymore than he already did. Turning toward the mirror she began dressing into the off-white garb of silk and lace. It was like a maze with so many layers and holes. But at last, she had achieved her goal and was quite satisfied with the outcome. Though she was marvelously stunning in her wedding dress, the sadness in her eyes and the dark circles beneath them contrasted. Christine did her best not to look into her own eyes, knowing that she would break down at any moment if she did.
There. She had dressed as he said. It was only a matter of time until he came for her. Sitting upon her knees and folding her hands, a prayer floated from her lips and up to the Heavens.
"Lord, if this is my destiny, let me be strong and do what is right... Protect my darling boy who rescued my scarf from the sea. He doesn't know what he is facing. I am at a loss of what to do now. Give me guidance. Amen."
Just then a knock was heard upon the door, and Christine took to resigning herself to a meek little girl. It was the last of her innocence she would remember from then on. She had forgotten to wipe off the smeared makeup from the performance, but cared little now. Her nerves were still shaken from the whole ordeal and were getting a fresh jolt as the full realization came to her of what she was about to do. As she bit her bottom lip against the gentle flowing tears that threatened her Erik took her hand carefully in his and led her out. It was then she realized he was there.
Neither of them spoke words. All that was needed was the silence to calm them both. She could not read what Erik was feeling or thinking now. He had returned to the icy manner in which he usually remained. No doubt so he could restrain himself from letting her know how truly furious with her he was. She thanked him silently for not unleashing his powerful wrath. It always confused her how at one moment he could be gentle as a dove and just as lovely, and the next he could throw himself into an enormous fit of rage. This was partly why she did not understand him. No matter how hard she tried it was as if he hid himself from her. How can one love another who will not allow them into their soul? He didn't know how often she had wondered about his past, and had nearly asked. It would have been so much easier if she'd known his reason for being so bitter toward the world. A sigh finished up her thoughts when they reached their destination. A door... Beautiful in its entirety and intricately patterned with designs that looked almost like another language. But she could not read it.
"What is this, Erik?" she whispered, placing her hand on the door and smoothing her fingertips over its cool surface, "Is this... The wedding room?"
Erik grimly looked to her and shook his head, suddenly portraying a smile that sent a chill down her spine, "Absolutely not, my dear."
Christine swallowed and glanced back to the door, pulling her hand from his and leaning upward toward the window that was alight now.
"Erik, I don't understand." her eyes returned to his.
He gestured for her to look again, "Check and see if anyone is there."
Christine turned and looked a second time, peering hard through the thick glass, "It's too bright, I can't see anything."
"Look harder."
She did as he told and squinted until she finally saw two figures, frantically fighting to find a way out of a room that had mirrors covering the walls.
"Oh, Erik..." she breathed, "Oh, you cannot be serious."
"I do believe it is your gallant fiance, come to save the day. Just in time for the wedding ceremony. Oh, and see there beside him. Nadir, my Persian friend turned foe, has joined him for the ride."
Christine pressed a hand over her mouth and began shaking her head in utter denial, unwilling to stop the tears now. This couldn't be. It was supposed to be simple! A quick wedding and then they'd never be seen again.... Why did Raoul have to come?? Why? And try to be the hero, as always. Now it was the nightmare she had hoped it wouldn't turn into. A playful look settled into Erik's eyes as he watched her horrified expressions. Of all the things in the world to find amusing, he was laughing at this!
"Oh, Erik! No! Please, God, no! Don't do this! He's only a boy!"
She turned and began to beat his chest furiously, screaming for him to let them go.
"Erik! Why?? Why torture them so? Why torture -me-??"
"Oh, but my dear! I never invited them. They came on their own accord. I'm only doing what I should have in the first place."
The tone in his voice struck fear into her soul and she shrieked, flinging herself back at the door and savagely, wildly pounding on it until her knuckles bled. She kept screaming for him to let them go until her voice was hoarse, and she still never stopped. Incessantly she attacked the door until she saw no way to open it and slid to the floor, curling up into a ball of heaving skirts.
"Christine, my poor Christine." Erik whispered, kneeling beside her and stroking her hair, only being slapped away, "Come, let me see your hands."
Christine sobbed again and saw that she had no choice but to do as he said then. So she lifted her hands to him and let him inspect them with all of the care in the world.
"Christine..." he groaned, pulling her up to her feet, "You'll kill yourself with your outbursts!"
Kill yourself... Somehow, the thought seemed all too appealing.
"Erik, please." she begged, sliding down to her knees before him and holding his hands close to her in attempts to further convince him, "I beg of you! He does not need to suffer!"
He pulled her to her feet again and stepped away from her, his lips forming into the ever serious line they usually were, "And why not? When I have suffered at both of your hands. I hardly think it fair..." then, his visible eyebrow lifted as an idea came to him, "But then, life isn't fair, is it? Come, my darling, I have something to show you."
"Another of your tricks, Erik? To put me away in another room while you kill him..." she yelled, her bottom lip quivering as more tears slipped down her face.
He only laughed, "Hardly the idea, Christine. Come."
She let out a shivery sigh and followed him helplessly. One command from him and she would do anything he asked. Anything. It was a shame how much power he held over her. Most of this might not have happened if only she had been stronger. But he was too irresistible. Somehow she felt as if any other woman in her position would have fallen the same way in the end, despite their efforts.
The trip was not long, as the trinket he was leading her toward was in the main room, not too far away. There he opened a small box of jade green with velvet lining and a gold key hole at the front. Inside lay two silver items: A grasshopper, and a scorpion. She wondered what sort of twisted game he was to play with these.
"You see the scorpion and the grasshopper sitting idly on their own at each end, do you not?" Erik asked as if he were speaking to a three year old.
"Yes, Erik." she answered serenely.
"Each has a purpose of their own, each ending somewhat the same. You see, the grasshopper represents what will happen if you choose your fiance over a future with me. The scorpion symbolizes what lies ahead if you choose me instead of the Vicomte."
"A choice..." she began to grow sick.
"Indeed. A choice that seems tough but really is only too simple, if you think about it the right way. If you choose your fiance, he will die, along with Nadir, and everyone else in this Opera, my love. Yet, if you decide otherwise and become my bride, I will set them free, and the entire Opera House will be left alone. Not to mention our lives will be saved as well."
"I almost pity the fact that I may not die today." she whispered coldly, looking into his eyes.
Erik was silent for a moment, pausing to take in what she'd said, and then sighed, placing the box down where it had been found, "I give you all of tonight to think upon it."
After this he gave her a sorrowful look and left her to her own thoughts, something he should not have done. Christine immediately fell to the floor in absolute horror. A dismal pain filled her heart and she groaned, leaning her head into her bloodied hand and holding her side with the other.
She wasn't aware, or was it that she didn't care, that her sobs reached Erik's room. He knew very well how mad he seemed then, and he wasn't altogether sure that he was totally sane. Something had to be done... After all she'd put him through he deserved comfort and love. After all he'd -lived- through this was only what he was entitled to. It wasn't so hard to love him, was it? She had said herself that if she understood him, she might be able to love him. So, it was no longer the mask that frightened her... It was himself... And rightly so. He could never lie about being perfect. Oh, he was so very far from it. But in all his beauty, even the Vicomte was not as ideal as he seemed. He, too, had flaws. Couldn't she see them?
Perhaps she was blind to them, because she loved him... Erik moaned and leaned against the wall of his room. For once, he felt the cold of his cellars like he had never before.
Raoul paced back and forth, shouting at the top of his lungs for Christine's captor to show himself. Nadir simply shook his head as he continued looking for a way out. The heat had driven Raoul to madness, it seemed. He was jittery and extremely sensitive to everything that happened around him. If Nadir so much as took a breath out of its normal pattern, Raoul would whirl around with an insane excitement in his eyes.
"Nadir... It is so hot..." he whispered, slipping down against one of the burning mirrors and beginning to strip himself of his shirt, "I can hardly stand it."
Nadir had long since done the smart thing and had already taken off the unnecessary layers of clothing, save for his trousers and his thin white shirt. Yet, it did nothing to ease the discomfort. No matter what the Persian man did, his efforts were in vain. There was absolutely no escape. Erik had been much too clever to make an easily abandoned chamber for torturing. Yet, in Nadir's determination he decided he would not resign to believing the worst, or giving up. Raoul had already submitted to hopelessness, now becoming a sweaty, tearful mess of a man in one of the many corners the room possessed.
"Christine..." he moaned, shaking his head in complete disbelief.
It was all over now. The monster would have his bride, and Raoul would have nothing. Quite the opposite to how he had expected it. Somehow he thought it would he one of those 'happy ending' stories where the good people triumphed and the wicked perished. It didn't seem so in this story. The villain was supposed to rot in a fiery hell.... But not this time...
My Comments: You'll see a lot of quotes coming from the new band 'Evanescence', as they are my newest FAVORITE BAND!! And I feel some of their songs really relate to the POTO chars in that alluringly gothic style. I donno, I guess this first portion of the 'Haunted' song by Evanescence might've fit what Christine was thinking when she was mad at Erik, or something, at one point or another...
Boy, did it take a lot out of me to form those first few paragraphs of the first chapter! Lordy it was awful! It was literally word by word, and I had to sit and THINK of what I might write!! ack!! sad, eh? but then, of course, I began writing at school and at night in a feverish excitement! lol
Anyway, here goes!
Emily Knibbe: Actually, I've been a fan for just about three years now. Thank you very much for your encouragement! That totally lifted my spirits! I hope I please you, and everyone else, with this first chapter.
E/C Fan: Wow!! You really like my Madame Giry???? Eee Gads!! I'm so happy! *tear*
Mary Jo Miller: Oh goody, cuz it's gonna keep coming! *bites nails* I hope... *looks to muse for help*
Chapter One
"Long lost words whisper slowly, to me,
Still can't find what keeps me here....
When all this time I've been so hollow, inside,
I know you're still there....
Watching me, wanting me,
I can feel you pull me down...
Fearing you, loving you,
I won't let you pull me down."
~Evanescence, 'Haunted'
The boat was swept along the foggy black waters of le Fantome's lake at an unbearable speed, its spectral gondolier rowing savagely down the liquid path. The ethereal bride of darkness in her temptress garb of a burning scarlet red sat against the end of the boat, holding onto the dragon's neck tightly as tears sprawled across her cheeks as evidence of the torture that existed inside of her. The girl's small form was shifting to balance in her place against the merciless waves of the torrent. A harrowing sob echoed through the master's cellars and the Ghostly figure turned his head briefly to catch a glimpse of his tormented black maiden. In reply, he let out a despairing moan that accompanied her bitter weeping in a melody filled with an excruciating dejection.
In an attempt to calm herself, Christine took to dipping her fingers in the freezing waters and watching the ripples, turning her mind from the complexity of this miserable situation to the simple beauty of the lake. Silence accompanied the crisp sounds of the blazing torches that protruded from the lairs' stone walls. They led the way down to his home, down to her room where she would await the ceremony. The wedding ceremony... Lifting her tearful eyes to whatever lay ahead of them, she realized that no longer would she be a child. No more would the joys of young romance and innocent puppy love exist. Only intense, uncontrollable passion, only darkness filled with mysteries and shadows always at her feet. No sun, only the moon. No beautiful spring time, only winter's chill. She would be his and his alone... Somehow this fact didn't quite effect her as it should have. Aminta was now numb to any feeling that could possibly exist...
The boat arrived at its sinister destination. The house was all but casual, at least on the inside, a contrast to the simplicity of the exterior. Her eyes fled to his own as she realized he was staring at her quite impatiently, stone cold serenity covering his face. Not a single trace of feeling in his features. Another tear slid across her cheek and over her rouged lips, dropping down to join the icy waters beneath her with its warmth.
She grasped her skirts and stood, trying to seem as steady as possible in his presence. It didn't seem wise to look afraid at this moment. Christine hardly considered taking his hand as he offered it, not even glancing his way when she stumbled onto the steps to the stone door entrance. Erik merely retracted his hand and carelessly threw the oar down into the boat. Running his hands over his naked face he entered, slamming the door behind him. Christine had already collapsed to the floor in a lifeless heap, still awake, however looking otherwise.
Erik could see her shivering through the thin material of her chemise, ignoring the fact that she was dressed in what could be more revealing than a nightgown. A blanket of warm, night colored velvet fell upon her shaking form and an instant relief, along with a feeling of complete safety conquered her chills. It smelled of him, felt of him. Christine huddled farther into the heavy material of his cape. He walked over to the fireplace quietly to stir up a conflagration to further provide her with heat. She hated herself for noticing the long strides in which he took and the gracefully powerful essence that was her Angel... was.... Now, he was the opposite of what she had dreamed of all this time. He was her darkness.
"Forgive the terribly bitter cold, m'dear. One would think after all of your many visits you might be used to it." he turned his black gaze to her and stood.
For a split second she thought that he might kill her in that moment. His anger was so horrible within those deep eyes of his, but she knew he would never hurt her, even after what she'd just done to him. Christine looked away shamefacedly as she recalled the awful misery she saw in him once she'd stolen the mask from his face. The shrill screams from the crowd and disgusted expressions on every one of their faces ran through her mind continually until she pressed her hands over her face and ears, trying to force them away. Why had she really done it? Why had she exposed him to everyone? What had been the reason... Perhaps to stall what she knew was to come. The unruly fervor that was inevitably in their future. She had wanted nothing more than to flee to her young, strong, beautiful boy who promised so many times before to rescue her from this nightmare.
Christine's eyes wandered about the dim room. Something was different, but she couldn't quite place it... Until she saw it. The ornate wedding dress that sat in his throne in front of the fire. It filled her with apprehensiveness. She knew it was to be worn this night...
"Christine, it is time to get dressed."
It was as if he was always reading her mind. Everything she thought he seemed to know before she even thought it. Christine sighed and stood, letting the cape fall onto the couch behind her. She missed the warmth of it immediately. Despite the fire, his place was always more than simply cold.
"I wish I didn't have to, Erik." she sobbed in a last attempt to plead for liberation.
"I know what you wish, Christine." he approached her with a tender look upon his face, a look of lament as he lifted her chin so that she would look at him, "But you learned long ago that not everything you want will, or should come true. It is time to face reality."
His breath cascaded across her face in a warm current, and she closed her eyes, inhaling gently.
Erik's voice was just as melodic and entrancing as it always was when he spoke, "Christine... How.... How hard is it, really, to love me? I'm a man too, just like your Vicomte. Am I really that different?"
"I could love you..." she whispered, "If I could understand you..."
Her eyes fluttered open, her lips parted as he gazed over her face. For a moment, all was peaceful and calm. Something they rarely had the chance to enjoy. They were so close, she almost thought he would kiss her. But it was not likely.
"Perhaps you're not trying hard enough." he breathed in turn, and then faced her toward her room and left to his throne.
She glanced over her shoulder and thought to herself, I've tried, Erik... I will always try.
The beautiful room Erik had carefully designed and decorated just for her was just as familiar as it always was. The same sweet aroma from the burning incense beside her bed, the large mirror beside her cherry wood armoire. A sigh of relief escaped her. At last, something of comfort. Her tears had already dried. There was no point in crying now. What mattered was facing fate and what was to come, however unwilling she was. Erik had always been stronger than her and had the uncanny ability to make her do anything he wanted. Sometimes she wondered just what he'd have her do if he abused that right to such a power anymore than he already did. Turning toward the mirror she began dressing into the off-white garb of silk and lace. It was like a maze with so many layers and holes. But at last, she had achieved her goal and was quite satisfied with the outcome. Though she was marvelously stunning in her wedding dress, the sadness in her eyes and the dark circles beneath them contrasted. Christine did her best not to look into her own eyes, knowing that she would break down at any moment if she did.
There. She had dressed as he said. It was only a matter of time until he came for her. Sitting upon her knees and folding her hands, a prayer floated from her lips and up to the Heavens.
"Lord, if this is my destiny, let me be strong and do what is right... Protect my darling boy who rescued my scarf from the sea. He doesn't know what he is facing. I am at a loss of what to do now. Give me guidance. Amen."
Just then a knock was heard upon the door, and Christine took to resigning herself to a meek little girl. It was the last of her innocence she would remember from then on. She had forgotten to wipe off the smeared makeup from the performance, but cared little now. Her nerves were still shaken from the whole ordeal and were getting a fresh jolt as the full realization came to her of what she was about to do. As she bit her bottom lip against the gentle flowing tears that threatened her Erik took her hand carefully in his and led her out. It was then she realized he was there.
Neither of them spoke words. All that was needed was the silence to calm them both. She could not read what Erik was feeling or thinking now. He had returned to the icy manner in which he usually remained. No doubt so he could restrain himself from letting her know how truly furious with her he was. She thanked him silently for not unleashing his powerful wrath. It always confused her how at one moment he could be gentle as a dove and just as lovely, and the next he could throw himself into an enormous fit of rage. This was partly why she did not understand him. No matter how hard she tried it was as if he hid himself from her. How can one love another who will not allow them into their soul? He didn't know how often she had wondered about his past, and had nearly asked. It would have been so much easier if she'd known his reason for being so bitter toward the world. A sigh finished up her thoughts when they reached their destination. A door... Beautiful in its entirety and intricately patterned with designs that looked almost like another language. But she could not read it.
"What is this, Erik?" she whispered, placing her hand on the door and smoothing her fingertips over its cool surface, "Is this... The wedding room?"
Erik grimly looked to her and shook his head, suddenly portraying a smile that sent a chill down her spine, "Absolutely not, my dear."
Christine swallowed and glanced back to the door, pulling her hand from his and leaning upward toward the window that was alight now.
"Erik, I don't understand." her eyes returned to his.
He gestured for her to look again, "Check and see if anyone is there."
Christine turned and looked a second time, peering hard through the thick glass, "It's too bright, I can't see anything."
"Look harder."
She did as he told and squinted until she finally saw two figures, frantically fighting to find a way out of a room that had mirrors covering the walls.
"Oh, Erik..." she breathed, "Oh, you cannot be serious."
"I do believe it is your gallant fiance, come to save the day. Just in time for the wedding ceremony. Oh, and see there beside him. Nadir, my Persian friend turned foe, has joined him for the ride."
Christine pressed a hand over her mouth and began shaking her head in utter denial, unwilling to stop the tears now. This couldn't be. It was supposed to be simple! A quick wedding and then they'd never be seen again.... Why did Raoul have to come?? Why? And try to be the hero, as always. Now it was the nightmare she had hoped it wouldn't turn into. A playful look settled into Erik's eyes as he watched her horrified expressions. Of all the things in the world to find amusing, he was laughing at this!
"Oh, Erik! No! Please, God, no! Don't do this! He's only a boy!"
She turned and began to beat his chest furiously, screaming for him to let them go.
"Erik! Why?? Why torture them so? Why torture -me-??"
"Oh, but my dear! I never invited them. They came on their own accord. I'm only doing what I should have in the first place."
The tone in his voice struck fear into her soul and she shrieked, flinging herself back at the door and savagely, wildly pounding on it until her knuckles bled. She kept screaming for him to let them go until her voice was hoarse, and she still never stopped. Incessantly she attacked the door until she saw no way to open it and slid to the floor, curling up into a ball of heaving skirts.
"Christine, my poor Christine." Erik whispered, kneeling beside her and stroking her hair, only being slapped away, "Come, let me see your hands."
Christine sobbed again and saw that she had no choice but to do as he said then. So she lifted her hands to him and let him inspect them with all of the care in the world.
"Christine..." he groaned, pulling her up to her feet, "You'll kill yourself with your outbursts!"
Kill yourself... Somehow, the thought seemed all too appealing.
"Erik, please." she begged, sliding down to her knees before him and holding his hands close to her in attempts to further convince him, "I beg of you! He does not need to suffer!"
He pulled her to her feet again and stepped away from her, his lips forming into the ever serious line they usually were, "And why not? When I have suffered at both of your hands. I hardly think it fair..." then, his visible eyebrow lifted as an idea came to him, "But then, life isn't fair, is it? Come, my darling, I have something to show you."
"Another of your tricks, Erik? To put me away in another room while you kill him..." she yelled, her bottom lip quivering as more tears slipped down her face.
He only laughed, "Hardly the idea, Christine. Come."
She let out a shivery sigh and followed him helplessly. One command from him and she would do anything he asked. Anything. It was a shame how much power he held over her. Most of this might not have happened if only she had been stronger. But he was too irresistible. Somehow she felt as if any other woman in her position would have fallen the same way in the end, despite their efforts.
The trip was not long, as the trinket he was leading her toward was in the main room, not too far away. There he opened a small box of jade green with velvet lining and a gold key hole at the front. Inside lay two silver items: A grasshopper, and a scorpion. She wondered what sort of twisted game he was to play with these.
"You see the scorpion and the grasshopper sitting idly on their own at each end, do you not?" Erik asked as if he were speaking to a three year old.
"Yes, Erik." she answered serenely.
"Each has a purpose of their own, each ending somewhat the same. You see, the grasshopper represents what will happen if you choose your fiance over a future with me. The scorpion symbolizes what lies ahead if you choose me instead of the Vicomte."
"A choice..." she began to grow sick.
"Indeed. A choice that seems tough but really is only too simple, if you think about it the right way. If you choose your fiance, he will die, along with Nadir, and everyone else in this Opera, my love. Yet, if you decide otherwise and become my bride, I will set them free, and the entire Opera House will be left alone. Not to mention our lives will be saved as well."
"I almost pity the fact that I may not die today." she whispered coldly, looking into his eyes.
Erik was silent for a moment, pausing to take in what she'd said, and then sighed, placing the box down where it had been found, "I give you all of tonight to think upon it."
After this he gave her a sorrowful look and left her to her own thoughts, something he should not have done. Christine immediately fell to the floor in absolute horror. A dismal pain filled her heart and she groaned, leaning her head into her bloodied hand and holding her side with the other.
She wasn't aware, or was it that she didn't care, that her sobs reached Erik's room. He knew very well how mad he seemed then, and he wasn't altogether sure that he was totally sane. Something had to be done... After all she'd put him through he deserved comfort and love. After all he'd -lived- through this was only what he was entitled to. It wasn't so hard to love him, was it? She had said herself that if she understood him, she might be able to love him. So, it was no longer the mask that frightened her... It was himself... And rightly so. He could never lie about being perfect. Oh, he was so very far from it. But in all his beauty, even the Vicomte was not as ideal as he seemed. He, too, had flaws. Couldn't she see them?
Perhaps she was blind to them, because she loved him... Erik moaned and leaned against the wall of his room. For once, he felt the cold of his cellars like he had never before.
Raoul paced back and forth, shouting at the top of his lungs for Christine's captor to show himself. Nadir simply shook his head as he continued looking for a way out. The heat had driven Raoul to madness, it seemed. He was jittery and extremely sensitive to everything that happened around him. If Nadir so much as took a breath out of its normal pattern, Raoul would whirl around with an insane excitement in his eyes.
"Nadir... It is so hot..." he whispered, slipping down against one of the burning mirrors and beginning to strip himself of his shirt, "I can hardly stand it."
Nadir had long since done the smart thing and had already taken off the unnecessary layers of clothing, save for his trousers and his thin white shirt. Yet, it did nothing to ease the discomfort. No matter what the Persian man did, his efforts were in vain. There was absolutely no escape. Erik had been much too clever to make an easily abandoned chamber for torturing. Yet, in Nadir's determination he decided he would not resign to believing the worst, or giving up. Raoul had already submitted to hopelessness, now becoming a sweaty, tearful mess of a man in one of the many corners the room possessed.
"Christine..." he moaned, shaking his head in complete disbelief.
It was all over now. The monster would have his bride, and Raoul would have nothing. Quite the opposite to how he had expected it. Somehow he thought it would he one of those 'happy ending' stories where the good people triumphed and the wicked perished. It didn't seem so in this story. The villain was supposed to rot in a fiery hell.... But not this time...